


Lost at Sea

by maroon_blaze



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maroon_blaze/pseuds/maroon_blaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero Yuy is an 18th century captain doomed to forever sail the seas looking for freedom and love. Duo Maxwell is a fix-it man in a small California coastal town. At dawn of the Millennium, what will happen when the two come crashing together? Literally</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once More into the Breach

 

 

 

_Lost At Sea_

**Disclaimer: GW: not mine. Things would have turned out veeeery differently if I owned the G-boys. MWAHAHA.**

**Warnings: Anachronisms, slight OOC, Relena bashing and man love. Don't like, don't read.**

**I'll _try_  to keep this as historically accurate as I can, but it may slip once in a while. Obviously the way they speak will mostly be current for the simple reason of readability.**

Prologue: Once More into the Breach

_In the year 1700 during the celebration of the New Year, a ship of the Royal Navy was lost at sea never to be heard from again. By their own act of betrayal and murder what is left of her crew is forever cursed. At the start of every one hundred years the Captain is given a chance to go ashore in search of love. Only then can they be free of their bondage on the ghost ship,_ The Merry Dawn _._

_Ghost Ships of the 18_ _th_ _Century_  by E.D. Lansing, 1935

Captain Yuy watched the waves crash against the hull of his gun frigate as the fog lifted and the last slip of land disappeared over the horizon. He absently listened to his first mate's flute play the tune of the perpetually lost. Trowa always did have a way capturing the melancholy mood, but in all the time the Frenchman spent twittering that bloody song Heero had yet to learn the name.

He sighed, and rested a bandaged hand on the side of the bulwark. Heero took a twisted comfort in the sound of the wood creaking around him. His cobalt eyes shut of their own accord as he let the sun glare down on his upturned face. He couldn't feel it. Neither could he feel the biting cold that no doubt anyone living would experience. He wouldn't be able to feel it for at least another century, because he had  _failed._ Again.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Wufei proclaimed, coming up behind him to lean his arms against the side. "It wasn't  _technically_ your fault."

Ridiculously enough, in his 20th century attire, Heero felt anachronistically garbed next to the former pirate, who was once again dressed in his customary red long vest. His chest was scandalously bare otherwise, showing the intricately decorated dragon tattoo that appeared to cover the whole of his body, dipping below the loosely fitted breeches. In times long since past, when women wore whale bone stays and the men still donned powdered wigs, the sight of a bare-chested man would have been considered indecent on any  _proper_  ship of the Queen's Navy, and would have earned him a flogging. Now, however, the once straight-laced captain had grown accustomed to the sight.

"You don't mean that, Mr. Chang,' Heero replied bitingly.

His traveling companion during all these long voyages -Heero still felt uncomfortable calling him a "friend"- simply shrugged and said, "Maybe."

"Doesn't mean he's wrong," Trowa said from his perch on an unused barrel of gunpowder. He slipped the flute into the pocket of his russet vest clasped smartly over his flowing blouse. "That girl you chose this time was hardly pure. Definitely wasn't right for you." He pointedly ignored the Death Glare Heero sent his way, flicking a nonexistent flint off his tight trousers. "Besides I'm glad it didn't turn out this time. The clothes were ridiculous."

"The women, deformed," Wufei piped up.

"The food was disgusting."

"Not to men-"

"Understood!" Heero shouted, though a smirk was forming.

"Good," Trowa said suddenly serious, "Because we can't have you wallowing like you did last time."

Wufei nodded. "You're a man. A  _captain_. Act like one, string up your bootstraps, and tell us what needs to be done."

Heero let his smirk bloom in full before barking out, "Hoist the mainsail!"

"Hoist the mainsail!" Trowa relayed unnecessarily, but it made Heero feel right at home again.

The once-young captain's eyes roved over his ship, from bow to stern. From the lanyards to the swaying helm. For now, this was truly his home. He could wait for freedom. He knew he could, because he  _had_ to. Yes, he wanted to live again, feel the sun and salt air, but before that he had to break this curse of the sea. He had to find love. True, no easy task for a man only allowed ashore every dawn of a new century.

He looked back as his two man crew watched the mainsail rig itself in place.  _Love can wait,_ Heero decided.  _Now is the time for adventure._

Before he moved to his cabin to change, he surveyed the endless water surrounding the doomed crew of the  _Merry_   _Dawn_. His smirk morphed into a heated scowl.  _And_   _here there be monsters._

**A/N** **Either way, good or bad, my lovely readers, let me know what you think.**

**I suppose this story is a Frankenstein mixture of old Ghost Ship tales (i.e.** _**The Flying Dutchman, Young Teazer),** _ **the wonderfully Steampunk-ey movie _Kate and Leopold,_** **and an Alex Beecroft novel.**


	2. He That Will Not Sail

 

 

**A/N **Chapter 3 shouldn't be too far behind but you never know when it comes to me. One minute the plot bunnies are nibbling incessantly on my ears the next they decide to take a nap.****

**Btw, I don't really have to say that this is an AU, do I? …Just checking.**

**W **arnings for this chapter: OOC, cursing and gayness. Refer to prologue for other warnings and disclaimer and such.**  **

 

"He that will not sail till all dangers are over must never put to sea." -Thomas Fuller

Excerpt of a letter from Captain Heero Yuy to his cousin, Amelia Lowe, circa 1699.

_**Dearest Amy,** _

_**I hope this letter finds you well.** _

_**It has finally come. Commodore Peacecraft called me into his office just this morning to tell me the news. I am to be captain of the** _ **Merry** **Dawn** _**as of December first. Due to your failing health, I heartily understand you cannot be here for the launch. I only hope you will be with me in spirit…** _

The captain, then called Henry Lowe - a pseudonym to hide his mother Eastern heritage- did not yet know that his cousin and last surviving family member had been dead seven days past. He would not know until a month after he set sail.

_The Betrayal of Captain Yuy (unfinished)_

-E.D. Lansing, 1936

 

**Sorrows Bay, California**

**December 29, 1999**

"Duo!"

"Yeah?" Duo shouted back to his flatmate from the kitchen. He had just started making breakfast, because God knows Quatre couldn't.

"… Pink bunnies? You were  _serious_?"

Clatter. Crash. Slam! And Duo had almost magically appeared from the kitchen looking decidedly rumpled. He was clumsily untying Quatre's unused flour-covered, frilly, purple "Kiss the Cook" apron with one hand, while simultaneously trying to get the pasta strainer off his foot.

"You found it!" Duo shouted ecstatically, snatching the brightly wrapped -with depictions of over-childlike pink bunnies- package from Quatre's hands. Duo, obviously beside himself, held it up triumphantly and did a little dance of glee.

"Yes, yes," Quatre said, clearly unimpressed. "Now gimme!" He attempted to make a grab at the rediscovered Christmas gift, but Duo quickly shielded it from view.

"What! No!" Duo cried.

"And why not?"

"I told you before, Kitty-Qat. This one is  _special_. And a  _secret,"_

Quatre raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Special how?"

"Well if I told you that, it wouldn't be a secret now would it?"

_Oh, dear, he's in one of his moods. I better hide the chocolate_ , the blond thought.

But he couldn't help but smile for his friend's antics. On the verge of hysterical laughter, Quatre watched Duo keep a wary eye on him as the man backed up. When he hit their bedroom door, Duo disappeared into the room. After a bit of scuffling noises and a curse or two, he reemerged, sans present.

Quatre by this time had given up the fight. They had been living together for over a year now Duo often had these moods where an unbearable hyperactivity seemed to overcome him. It was almost imperceptible to Duo's usual self, but Quatre had always been good at reading people. He knew the way Duo was acting today was, as usual, just a facede to mask his real feelings. A few hours preceding these bouts of human sunshine, he showed his agitation. Oh, yes, something was bothering Duo and it was up to Quatre to figure out what. In his own special way.

Duo found him sitting on their sofa, going over the opinion section in the Thursday morning edition of the local paper,  _The Sorrows Bay Mirror_. He didn't look up when Duo purposefully sauntered back into the kitchen. A moment later the sound of pancake batter being whisked could be heard throughout the small apartment.

"Duo," he teased patiently, "it's a Christmas gift. I don't want to wait a whole year to open it."

"Well, how's Saturday sound for you?"

"The first? If the world doesn't end, sure."

Duo head popped in from the open doorway. "Aw, come on, now. You don't believe all that Y2K crap."

"Of course not, but it is very amusing." He held up the paper for Duo to see the full spread on the front page. A picture of a small group of "protesters" was shown with sign with badly spelled warnings like "THE END IS NEER! REPENT!" and "GOD WIL JUGE ALL!"

The sound of whisking drew closer as Duo walked behind the sofa for a better view. "Dude, that's not amusing. Those people are psycho."

"One man's psycho is another man's religion."

"Religion, my ass. They need heavy meds."

"And I need my breakfast," Quatre quipped, folding the paper up again to throw it on their much-abused coffee table. "Do you want help? I don't want us to be late  _again._ "

"Once," Duo said with finality. "It happened once." He spun on his heels, back again to the kitchen. Moments later, the smell of his favorite breakfast food cooking lured Quatre to the  _far_  too small cooking nook.

"Yes, and Relena won't ever let you forget."

"Ugh, homophobic bitch."

"Duo!" Quatre almost dropped liter of cran-raspberry juice he was about to pour for them.

"It's true! That pampered pink princess has always had it in for me."

"Well, can't deny that," Quatre mumbled before saying lightly, "but that doesn't mean she's homophobic. She's always been entirely cordial towards me,and she certainly knows  _I'm_  gay."

They finally sat down to eat, but the food didn't seem to be raising Duo's dampened spirits as it usually did.

_Definitely_   _something_ 's  _wrong_ ,Quatre thought.

"That's cus you're all… hoity-toity."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't get huffy." He pointed his syrupy fork in Quatre's direction. "You run that museum, I'm just the grunt. You're blue blood, like her. She wouldn't dare say 'boo' to you. Doesn't matter if you're gay, bisexual, or trisexual, you're still old money."

"First of all," Quatre chastised immediately, "it's my parents' money, not mine. I haven't touched my trust since I left."

"Yeah, but-"

"Secondly," he plowed on, annoyed. "I do not run the museum. I greet the guests and  _maybe s_ how them around a little."

"Whatev-"

"And secondly," Quatre insisted, now looking deadly. He stood and loomed over Duo to make his point. "You are  _not_  a grunt. You take care the shop  _and_  oversee the displays,  _and_  on top of that, fix anything that needs fixing. Not just in the museum but around town, too. You're a renaissance man, Duo."

Duo bit the inside of his lip as a thin blush spread across his cheeks. "Yeah, well, I'd like to be an  _employed_ renaissance man, so let's get moving. And stop  _looming._ "

They finished breakfast in relative peace. Once the plates had been cleared away, and they were appropriately bundled for the winter weather, they set off for work at the redundantly named  _Sorrows Bay Museum for Historic Preservation_. According to Duo, the museum, not more than ten years old, was started by the Peacecraft family to generate more tourism in the recession. The building itself was a beautiful old Victorian three story home on the far side of town, almost hidden by the trees that grew around it. It held an assortment of documents and historical artifacts that had to do with the surrounding area. Much of it centered on nautical adventures of past settlers.

Along one side of the building on the first floor the wall had been taken out and a glass window was put in to watch the ships go out to fish. The idea had been their boss' and at the time it was a controversial decision. The house was owned by an old family long since died out and was almost 200 years old, but in the end it didn't matter. What Relena Peacecraft wanted she usually got. Regardless of the destruction of a piece of history, Quatre simply adored the view. If there weren't an abundance of museum-goers he and Duo would often sit on the benches facing out of that window on their breaks to eat the clam chowder they bought from one of the many restaurants lining the beach.

When Duo let Quatre drive his "baby," a Cadillac Duo had been restoring the last few years, that old worry began gnawing at the blond. The silence really was unnerving, especially considering who was sitting in the black leather bucket seat directly to his right. Something was obviously bothering Duo, but as usual, Quatre could hold his tongue and be patient. He always told Quatre eventually.

Duo, oblivious to his friend's worries, spent this time to watch the tide go out, his head turned completely to the scene to their right as Quatre drove along his favorite stretch of road. The small strip passed along the limit of town, by the waterfront seafood restaurants, the fishing boats, and a spectacular view. Not being a native this area was the most peaceful place Quatre could imagine. In the distance, towering over the town at 580 ft. was Sorrows Bay Rock. Smack dab in the center of the gulf of the bay leading to the harbor was a mountainous island made of cooled lava. No one really knew how old it was, but there had always been legends surrounding it. Morbid legends. Which unbeknownst to Quatre was exactly what Duo was thinking about now.

_I haven't been out on a boat since,_ Duo mused watching the morning catchers ring the Rock like tiny triangular figures on a blue carousel.

"A penny?" Quatre offered

"Huh?" Duo replied absently, head turned fully towards The Rock.

"For your thoughts."

"Oh."

Quatre waited for more but obviously that was all he was going to get. Duo's head was a million miles away.

"I've been thinking of asking Dorothy out," Quatre lied, trying to catch Duo's attention. The museum's "procurer," Dorothy Catalonia, and Duo never really got along. Duo had always considered her a grave robber hiding behind a fancy desk. Quatre had to admit he wasn't far off.

"Mhmm"

"… But she's not really my type, you know?"

"Yeah."

"So I decided to ask Relena to marry me. Since, I'm broke now it seems the logical choice. A pink wedding in Winter sounds refreshing, doesn't it?"

"Totally."

Quatre huffed and pouted. "She's so sweet, I'm sure she'd be a terrific mother," he continued unheard. "And boy or girl I'd at least know what color we going to paint the nursery. Good plan?"

"Great."

Quatre had had quite enough. In an attempt to pull Duo out of his own personal fog, Quatre slammed on the brakes. Having of course forgotten his seatbelt, Duo cursed loudly when his knees banged the glove compartment. Mrs. McGillicuddy zoomed past, screaming about the "damn hoodlums," and honking for all her little beetle was worth, but neither of them paid her any mind.

"What the hell!" Duo shouted, finally able to form at least a pg-13 rated sentence.

"Duo Maxwell, are you going to tell me what is wrong with you, or am I going to have to guess?"

"Quatre, dude, we're in the middle of traffic!" Duo looked behind them at all the other car holding all the other people trying to get to work. A few followed Mrs. McGillicuddy's route, but the rest chose to stay behind and blare their horns at them. "Get us outta here"

"Not until you tell me what's got you all-"

"Yes. Fine. Good," Duo said hurriedly when he saw beefy, bullying Benny Barr shove out of his hummer several cars back and start stomping his way towards the two. "Just  _drive_."

Quatre gave an exasperated sigh but complied nonetheless. He turned the corner to park them in front of the aptly named Shell Shack. It was a family run business that picked up shells along the beach and sold them in the form of necklaces or pictures or even little shell people figurines. The shop itself had a giant ceramic shell on the roof of the building. It was Duo's preferred place to spend a few hours in on his day off. But as Quatre turned an expectant eye on him, arms crossed, Duo wholly wished he was somewhere else.

Quatre could be seriously scary.

Duo took a preparative, shuddering breath. "Ok, so… You remember Solo?"

He could see Quatre processing that simple question, probing it for hidden meaning until finally, "Oh, Duo" Quatre breathed, resting a hand lightly on his arm. "Is today when..?"

"Yup," Duo said as he tried to keep his composure.

"Wh-Why didn't you say anything?"

"Aw, Qat," Duo shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't used to all this  _sharing_  stuff. "I didn't wanna worry you."

"Yeah, because that worked so well," Quatre said, but Duo could hear the affectionate concern beneath the sarcasm. Quatre knew he didn't want to open up about his feelings or anything girly like that.

_Dude really is awesome._

"Look, I'm sorry I had a bitch-fest, Qat," he said and Quatre could tell he was sincerely apologetic. "I just really don't wanna talk about it so-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence before Quatre started the car again. "Of course," Quatre said. He smoothly put the car in reverse and backed up. "I'm here if you need me though."

"Yeah, Q-ball," Duo said, finally relaxing, even letting himself smile. "I know."

By the time they parked in the museum lot, Duo's spirits were much improved. Until…

"God damnit!" he shouted.

Quatre whirled from locking the car, confused. When he saw the white BMW sitting in front of the entrance to the building he actually freaking giggled.

"Oy," Duo snapped. "Don't  _giggle._  This is not a  _giggling_  situation."

"Well, he's been gone for a whole year," he said still tittering. "Maybe he's changed."

"HA! He's a manwhore, and will always  _be_  a manwhore." Duo emphasized this rather biased statement with a petulant crossing of the arms.

"Oh, now don't be that way," a voice said off to their right.

Duo must have jumped a foot in the air. They turned to find none other than Milliardo Peacecraft gliding their way. Duo assumed he went by his modeling name now, Zechs Marquise.

"What the hell are you doing sneaking around, old man?" Duo demanded.

Quatre thought this was a bit unfair. Milliardo may have had a few years on them, but he was hardly  _old_.

"Can't a man visit a place of sentimental value?" Milliardo raised an elegant eyebrow.

"No," Duo deadpanned. "No, he can't."

Quatre took the initiative before things spiraled out of control. "I'm Quatre," he said holding out a hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

Duo and the "old man" stared at him. Quatre had the feeling they had forgotten he was there.

"Ah, yes," Zechs said once he had recovered. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Quatre Reberba Winner."

The blond in question held in a wince. He hated when people used his full name.

"But you seem to have forgotten, we have met before," he said, grasping Quatre's hand with two of his own.

"We have?"

" _Oui, mon frer."_

" _Oh! My birthday in Paris,"_  Quatre responded in perfect French. " _I'm afraid I_ had _forgotten."_

"Blue blood," the brunette mumbled. Quatre sent him a withering glare and Duo looked appropriately cowed.

" _One should never forget a sweet sixteen, Quatre,"_  Zechs continued the conversation, not missing a beat. He looked Quatre straight in his eyes.

Quatre found himself blushing scarlet. Even more so when he realized Zechs was still holding his hand. He slipped out from the grip and smiled, uncertain of what to say.

"I believe my sister will be missing me by now," Zechs said looking towards the double doors. "I'm afraid I must go-"

"Oh, must you?" Duo sneered at him.

"-for now," he finished as he gave a small smile to Quatre. "I hope to see you again, Mister Winner." Zechs nodded a farewell to Duo who stuck out his tongue in return. Without any further flourish the young heir turned and walked inside the museum.

"See!" he hissed when Zechs was out of earshot. He pointed a finger in the direction Zechs just departed. "Manwhore!"

"Honestly, Duo, he doesn't seem that bad."

"My ass," Duo grumbled, using a favored phrase of his.

"Actually, I think that was the point."

Quatre, feeling very smug at this point, practically bounced along the cobblestone path, leaving a spluttering Duo in his wake. He was now more certain than ever that Milliardo Peacecraft was hardly a "manwhore." Or at least he wasn't anymore. Quatre was sure the only reason Zechs had flirted with him in the first place was to get a rise out of Duo, and he had certainly done that. It was a wonder how Duo could go all this time and not know he was the target of a very adorable crush.

He breathed in the scent of wood and sea air that pervaded every inch of the town. For some reason, though, the atmosphere in the museum always seemed slightly more dense. Like a favorite comfy sweater you have for years that had conformed perfectly to the shape of your body. Quatre walked into the worker's common room and as always ran a hand along the wood paneling wall by the door frame.

He was struck, not for the first time, at how lucky he was to have found this town. When he had finally had enough of home and had hopped into his car with nothing but a few hundred bucks in his pocket and the clothes on his back, he hadn't really formed a plan. He'd just driven as far west as he could, away from his father. Away from a future he didn't want. Away from a past that he now knew he never would be truly rid of. He had just driven away from everything he knew until he hit sea line. He was out of money and out of patience, and was just about to call home when he came across this little hamlet. Surrounded by woods and ocean, Sorrows bay was the oasis he needed to forget his trouble and just be himself. He owed a lot to Sorrows Bay, and to Duo.

He was just signing in when Duo finally walked through the door behind him.

"What the hell does that mean!"

"Hmm?" Quatre asked absently.

He slipped his coat off, letting the warm air of the building wash over him. The temperature had been in the low 20s now for the last month, and Quatre being the southern gentleman that he was, was entirely unused to this environment. Duo claimed the weather was unusual but Quatre hadn't decided whether or not to believe him yet. Duo was prone to exaggeration.

"That whole" -he screwed up his face and imitated Quatre's slightly effeminate tone- "'actually that was the point' bullcrap."

"If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not going to tell you."

"You limey bastard!"

A sigh pushed its way from Quatre's pouty lips. "Calm down, Duo. It was a joke."

Duo simply looked at him with raised eyebrow.

"Don't forget your apron," Quatre called behind him as he left the Rec room.

"Yes, ma'am," Duo mumbled in the quiet. He opened his locker and held up the baby blue apron with the museum's logo on it, a stylized icon of Sorrows Bay Rock on the waves. He really did hate the damn thing. It was too… perky. To him Sorrows bay was a greyed world fillled with a mysterious past and honorable history. Relena and her family were trying to turn it into a friggin amusement park.

He shrugged and donned the hated thing. He was just creeping towards the little gift shop when out of the corner of his eye he saw the signature bright pink, the harbinger of an end to all that was good. He zipped into the shop and tried to blend in with the scenery. Was he hiding? Damn right. But he was doing it in a very manly way. He molded himself against the wall that could not be seen by The Evil Princess of Pink and her minions. In stealth mode he creeped to the edge of the wall and peeked to see Relena saying something to quatre across the room. Oh, Yeah. Duo was 007-ing that shit.

"What's up?" came a whisper directly into his ear

A very shameful squeal of girlish fear was emitted from the man and he had to refrain from launching himself behind the counter.

Hilde was too busy laughing at this display to even, you know, breath, when they heard a very annoyed shout of "MAX _WELL!"_

"Oh, fuck me." Duo whispered.

**A/N Not much actual plot going on, but I thought this was a good place to stop. I tried doing more than simple introductions and background -which is a huge reason it took so long- but the story would just not cooperate. It felt forced. Next chappie will have more meat :P**

**The setting of this story is based on a** _**beautiful** _ **town in California called Morro Bay. Some of my best childhood memories are in that quiet little fishing village. Google some pictures, it's absolutely picturesque.**

**Morro Bay Rock does exist but the story behind it is less mysterious. The Shell Shack in Morro Bay is exactly as I described it. Fun place.**


End file.
